Trip Start May 04, 2005
Trip End May 12, 2005

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Flag of France  ,
Sunday, May 8, 2005

The train ride from Amsterdam to Paris felt long, not because of the distance between the cities, but because the uncomfortable chairs we were sitting on. I was fortunate enough to have purchased the last available seats on the train, disregarding the fact that they were located in the last aisle by the luggage racks, but it didn't matter. I was completely intrigued with the thought of finally accomplishing a life-long dream alongside the one person who matters more than the dream itself, my husband. I was sitting in front of him, and I enjoyed the view. He was lost in the beauty of the tulip plantations and the wind mills, and I wished he would have been lost in my eyes as I was lost in his. I forgot about what was surrounding me and started daydreaming about us. Suddenly I woke up, and I saw his eyes really close to mine. He was laughing. He had been throwing balls of paper at my open mouth while I slept, and finally he had scored. I was embarrassed, but what the hell, he is my husband and this was not the first time he had done something like that.

In Paris, we walked down the train we entered a different world; billboards, k-9 dogs, Interpol, lost tourists, and family members with big smiles on their faces waiting for their loved ones. As we walked down the hallway looking for a familiar face, I mean a McDonald's, we saw what we really needed; the information desk. The fancy receptionist was applying soft pink lipstick, when I interrupted her. She looked at me through the side of her expensive Chinese mirror, and without setting her lipstick down; she gave me an evil look. She was not concerned about my presence in the least. She took her time to make sure that the soft pink color was evenly distributed across her thin lips, and then she put her beauty tools away and finally smiled at me.
"Bonjour, comment ca va?" She asked.
"Not so good, but thanks for asking and by the way that pink lipstick looks terrible on you!" I thought to myself.

Nevertheless, I smiled back at her and after a couple of minutes we got all the information we needed. As we walked outside of the train station something hit me, I stopped for a second and sat down. My husband didn't understand what was happening, he looked at me for a minute and then realized what was going on. He sat right next to me, and held my hand.

My grandpa had showed me a picture of the Eiffel Tower when I was nine, and ever since then I have been obsessed with it. I had my room covered with posters, postcards and whatever I could find with its picture. I even loved to go to my dentist because she had gone to Paris and she had a picture of the Eiffel Tower at night, all lit up, that she would let me hold while she checked my messy smile. My grandpa had promised to take me one day, and I believed him. Every night I dreamed about the day that I would be on the top of the Eiffel tower. Every day he made up new stories about this place, and like a high school crush; everyday my love for the Eiffel Tower grew more.
After a couple of minutes I felt ready to face my reality; I was in Paris, holding the hand of the man that I love, on my way to meet my childhood love. All these years of expectations were about to come to an end. My hands were sweating and my heart was beating so rapidly that even my husband could hear it. I hadn't felt like this since my wedding day. I took a deep breath, grabbed my 45 pound backpack, kissed my husband on the lips, and started walking towards the train which was about to be my ride to happiness. During the five minute ride we didn't speak, I didn't even look at my husband. My mind was so far away from him; my thoughts now belonged to the tower. I couldn't wait to give myself to the moment, to run toward it, and scream that since I was a kid I was in love with it, to touch it, and finally to climb it. Being at the top had been the ecstasies of my childhood dreams, and this moment was the closest I ever felt to adultery

My husband touched my arm and I returned to reality. We had made it to the final train stop, and as we walked out of the station, my heart rate increased so bad that I thought I was going to die before seeing the tower. My eyes were wide open, looking at the skies, just waiting to see it; but nothing happened. We walked for a couple of minutes, my back hurt, and my impatience was about to drive me into a panic attack. We were lost, so we turned around for a second to look for the name of the street, and there it was.

I dropped my bag on the ground, and I felt a lump in my throat. There it was, right in front of me, all this time it had been behind me, watching over my shoulder, almost whispering in my ear French words that I could not understand but that I loved anyways. It was bigger and more beautiful than all the pictures I had seen combined. Although, I could only see its top through the buildings, I knew that all these years of waiting had been worth it.
I forgot about my husband, and I just ran towards it. I could hear a voice in the background screaming my name, telling me to stop, but I didn't care. I finally saw it all. Its naked structure was more amazing than in my dreams. I cried, I thought about all the years of dreaming and loving this "thing", and finally after all this time I got to meet the love of my life, while holding the hand of the man that I love.
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